


The Secret to Happiness:  Written by Dean Winchester

by Twinkaleckis (twinkaleckis)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Serial Killer Winchesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:18:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinkaleckis/pseuds/Twinkaleckis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has his own way to release, and at the end, happiness is a warm gun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret to Happiness:  Written by Dean Winchester

‘Happiness is a warm gun. Happiness is a warm gun.’

 

A sick grin graced his face as the song droned on the boombox. His hips swayed slightly out of beat as the notes floated around the room. The room was splattered with red bodies were all over the floor and fuck it was hot. Dean loved the feeling of this after a good hunt. The feeling of pureness, the high from his adrenaline kicking in, the butt of his gun weighing down his hand which was still vibrating from the kickback. 

‘I need a fix ‘cause I’m goin’ down, down to the abyss that I’ve left up town, I need a fix ‘cause I’m going down.’

One of the hostages tried sneaking behind him, but Dean turned around like a tiger jumping on its prey and pulled back the trigger without a second thought. The man moved a few more steps before Dean shot him again and then he was down for the count. God, hunts like these were Christmas to him, that is, if he had Christmas. 

‘Mother Superior jump the gun, Mother Superior jump the gun.’

The lyrics distorted themselves in his ears and he ran a hand through his short hair, letting out a short chuckle. His eyes were like sweet sugar venom on the last person in the office. The woman was curled in on herself, shaking with terror. The bitch had pissed herself at least ten minutes ago. Dean only got of on the fact that he caused that fear.

‘When I hold you in my arms, when I feel my finger on your trigger, I know nobody can do me no harm.’

Fuck, he could practically hear the cunt’s teeth chattering and her bones shaking in her meatsuit. Just as he was about to say something to Mrs. Suburban Soccer Mom, his phone vibrated in his pocket, cutting off his thoughts. Dean turned off the stereo and glared at the woman, telling her to sit there nice an pretty just for him so they could play later, before grappling the phone from his pocket and checking to see who was calling. He swore lightly and flipped the phone open.

“Dean, it’s time to leave. The police just caught word of the gunshots. I fucking told you to use silencers, but of course, you choose not to listen to me. When we get arrested, it’s your fault, and I will tell them that.” Sam’s whiny voice erupted from the phone, killing Dean’s mood.

“Whatever bitch, I have one more. I’ll be out in a sec, so have the car ready.” Dean spoke, turning his back to the woman and pointing the gun right to her head as he talked. A snap later, the phone was back in his pocket and he slithered back around, almost sensually, and smiled at the Suburban Queen. ”Hear that Sweetheart? Playtime’s over. Did you get everything?”

Hot tears rolled down her plump face and stuck to her vibrant red lipstick. Like the good girl that she was, she nodded with a high pitched whimper and Dean kneeled in front of her, petting her hair and moving it from her face.

“Pl-please don’t do this. I have a family, please.” Her voice trembled, but that did nothing to Dean, well, except make him more eager to splatter her fucking brain matter against the wall behind her and bang something, but he cocked his head to the side like an innocent puppy and continued to smile at her.

“Well, don’t ya know that happiness is a warm gun, momma?”

A final gunshot rang through the entire building and blood oozed down the wall to the floor. Her hand fell to the floor and her phone faced Dean, making his smile grow bigger. The man gave it a little wave and winked before getting up and calmly walking out the front door, bells chiming behind him.

An engine revved up as their car pulled out of the parking lot, the camera catching three silhouettes inside the Impala, two in the backseat and one in the driver’s seat. Minutes after the three left, police cars peeled into the lot and a swat team rushed out, hiding themselves behind the shitty shutters on either side of the glass door before pushing the door open and storming into the bloodbath created by Dean Winchester.


End file.
